Iron Jizz
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: James Rhodes had only intended to get drunk & forget about things for a while. Tony, just being Tony, changed everything. That was just how Tony was & James really wouldn't have him any other way. (IronBros; MIT fic; rated for profanity; Aeries)
1. Fledgeling

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Specifically, this story contains references to underaged drinking and sexual activity between a minor and an adult. There's also a lot of references to less than stellar care for a child. I would classify it as implied verbal and emotional abuse with heavy possibility of physical abuse from at least one caregiver. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Summary** : James Rhodes had only intended to get drunk & forget about things for a while. Tony, just being Tony, changed everything. That was just how Tony was & James really wouldn't have him any other way.

 **Author's Note (Words of Interest)** : _Jizz_ (as related to birding) is the indefinable quality of a particular species, garnered from things like its shape, posture, flying style, or physical characteristics combined with habitat and location. _Iron_ is Air Force slang for bombs & missiles. Also Air Force slang (very briefly & only roughly): _pigeon_ (member of the Air Force); _the Zoo_ (Air Force Academy); _conehead_ (Zoo student); _zoomie_ (graduate of the Zoo); _barn_ (hanger); _sprog_ (pilot in training).

 **Author's Note(s):** I just want to be clear about that from the beginning: this is a bromance fic. There's moments when the potential for the relationship to be something else comes up. This is not intended as ship-bait but is a natural consequence of what is going on with both Tony and Rhodey. There's a lot of factors that go into both why they don't and why they wonder about it. If you've never had a relationship where the normal boundaries are skewed beyond recognition, it's going to seem more than a bit like the setup for a slow burn. It's not. Of course, it's also not quite just friendship or even familial either, but it is definitely not romance. So, go into this fic understanding that some relationships defy classification and are simply _vital_.

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "Breakdown" by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

-= LP =-  
 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 01: _Fledgling_  
-= LP =-  
"Depth of friendship does not depend on length of acquaintance."  
– Rabindranath Tagore  
-= LP =-

James Rhodes had exactly one reason to be there that night when he really should have been studying for midterms or working his thesis. Maybe a frat party with its cheap beer and loose girls wasn't the best way to deal with a breakup, but he had to be sure, right? For _science_ , he had to test the parameters and… oh, who did he think he was fooling? He just wanted to get smashed and find someone who was distinctly _not_ the kind of girl that one took home to Mama—especially not his Mama, who was going to be disappointed enough to find out that Erika had decided that they were over.

She hadn't _liked_ Erika, exactly. What she had liked was the concept of grandchildren to spoil rotten and to maybe fill some of the hole should he get shot down while flying over hot zones around the world. Now that possibility was distinctly gone. There was not any way of salvaging a relationship there. He did admire Erika's efficiency in destroying it. Declaring a pending marriage to another guy out of the blue after two years of dating had to be the romantic equivalent of a nuke.

Ugh. Maybe Mama had a good reason not to like her.

James was coasting on the pleasant side of buzzed when he stumbled into a bathroom for a piss only to find it already occupied. He would have stumbled back out—the party was crowded but there had to be another bathroom, one without a person scribbling on the mirror with a marker—but he made the mistake of looking at the equations the _kid_ was writing out. A fraction of a second later, he realized that said kid had practically been marinated in alcohol for all that his handwriting was perfectly legible, a perfect font with crisp edges and no blending between letters. It was the font that gave away what had to be the kid's major. Only architects and engineers had that precision in their handwriting, and frankly, people didn't get into college at what had to be a rather stunty sixteen _on the outside_ for architectural design.

"Aren't you a little short for a college student?"

"Just piss and piss off," the kid snapped without looking at him. He shifted his perch on the counter to reach a blank portion of mirror. His gaze was focused both intensely and completely on whatever he was seeing in his head and regurgitating through the dry-erase marker in his hand. James got lost for a moment in the hypnotic sight of the kid's reflected face, barely noting the puffy bruises beneath his eyes.

Since obviously the kid didn't mind, James took him up on the first part without protesting. It _was_ his reason for being in the room in the first place, after all. After flushing, it took barely a nudge to encourage the teen to shift away from the sink so that he could wash his hands. James lingered afterwards, checking over the equations with growing awe. If he was reading it right, the equations were actually procedural coding of some sort.

"Holy fuck," he cursed as the implications hit him. That was a learning algorithm, one that should be able to learn indefinitely without procedural decay even with a limiter on subject focus. The kid was looking at him now, his brown eyes squinting suspiciously. James pointed at the mirror while holding eye contact. Something that sounded like his Mama's voice told him that it was important that the kid believed what he was about to say. "That's fucking beautiful, man."

"You're not just saying that," the kid replied, drawing out the words with a hesitant uncertainty, "are you?"

"I don't know what kind of assholes you usually hang out with, but _no_ , I'm not 'just saying that'. For fuck's sake, you may have the solution to all of the ontology issues and you're drunker than a skunk at a party hosted by _Nu Delta_. I'm watching the less-kinky conception of a lifeform in the bathroom of a jock frat, man. Do you understand how beautiful this moment is? If I ever seen my fucking ex, I'm gonna thank her for fucking me over enough that I came to this party in the first place."

"I could make it more kinky if you really want," the kid offered like it was nothing. That ease bothered James, even through the buzz. Having gotten a better look at him now, James would have to say that his previous estimate of sixteen was _generous_. James knew that teenagers were just as capable of having sex as adults, but they usually did it with _other teenagers_ , which there was a distinct lack of on campus. The kid really shouldn't be so ready to jump into bed with people in their twenties. Something of his discomfort must have shown on his face because the kid huffed out a breath before rushing out more words than James had known could be said in a single breath.

"Or _not_ , if that's your thing. _Whatever_. No skin off my nose. You just seemed disappointed about the lack of kink involved in the situation, so I thought I'd offer to rectify that. If you don't wanna, I'm not gonna force you, so you don't have to look so worried about it. Though you should know that appreciation for decent language skills is definitely my kink and it may be the foul-tasting rotgut the Delts are handing out, but you definitely look like you shouldn't be alone. This ex of yours? Is she fucking blind? You've definitely got a Hottie McHottie thing going for you _plus_ you speak English. I'd fuck you in a New York minute if you were into that, which you probably aren't. Say, which branch are you headed into? I'm guessing either Air Force or Navy, judging by your recognition of behavioral procedures."

"I have a commission with the Air Force—and of course I speak English. I'm from Philly."

"A pigeon," the kid replied without missing a beat. Then he flashed a grin that was full of teeth. It reminded James of an animal snarling out a warning despite its apparent geniality. "Been to the Zoo yet? Or you still a conehead?"

"Technically, I'm a full zoomie, since we're using the slang like idiots. I'm here to finish my Master's in Aeronautics, then I get to go back to my barn. You're a military brat, I'm guessing?"

"You don't know who I am?"

"A mouthy brat with an incredibly large ego stuffed into a pint-size package?" James countered without thinking. They both froze, staring at each other. Even as he could hear his Mama berating his rudeness, James could practically watch as the kid's mind whirled with increasing speed. It was as fascinating as the coding equations on the mirror behind him. The grin grew toothier, still sharp but less defensive, a warning more than a threat.

"I'm not pint-size. I'm _compact_. That's how the newer models come, sourpatch."

"Pocket size for convenience?"

"You!" The kid emphasized the accusation by pointing his marker at James. His grin had turned into something between a smirk and a smile. He wobbled from the force of the gesture, reminding James of just how drunk the kid had to be despite the lack of slurred words. That was just as worrisome as the easy proposition, speaking of too much practice for any _kid_ to have. "Not everyone can be some gigantic mass of muscle, you know. _Some_ of us have better things to do than compete with the Empire State Building for height."

"Like breaking the known limits of science," James commented drily. He ruffled the kid's hair like he would one of his younger siblings. The kid froze at the touch before ducking away just like his siblings would have. The smile had a shy edge to it now, like it had been born from that initial uncertainty. James had a feeling that the kid didn't smile like that very often.

"Yep," the kid agreed instantly, making the word pop. He flicked the fingers of his free hand at James before pointing the marker to the door. He was already turning back towards the mirror, the softened smile starting to fade like he didn't have the energy to sustain it and keep going at the same time. James wanted to punch whoever had taught the kid that he wasn't allowed to be genuinely happy for longer than a moment. "So you best leave me to it, sweetpea. Gotta do this thing. Science waits for no man."

James watched the kid fold into himself as he forced himself to return to working. His mind did a quick turn and jump through everything he had seen since entering the room and spotting the kid. It was the same thing that made him such a good pilot while other sprogs had washed out and he knew better than to fight the conclusion he made. Whoever the kid was, there was no way that James was leaving him here alone. He was obviously vulnerable and the next person to stumble across him might be unscrupulous enough to take advantage of that.

"Uh-huh, yeah, _no_ ," he declared. The kid looked over his shoulder at him, confusion stamped on his handsome features. "I'm not exactly a genius, but I'm pretty sure that sciencing drunk and sleep deprived is probably a recipe for disaster. That's how B-Grade science fiction gets its plots, man. So, I'm gonna go grab a notebook from one of the Delts, and we'll copy the coding for your bouncing baby boy. Then I'm dragging your ass out of here and putting you to bed somewhere."

"Aw, you do want to take me to bed! You know you could have just said so, honeybunch."

"Don't look so excited. I have no plans to fuck you."

"Bor- _ing_."

"What- _ever_ ," James replied, echoing the kid's sentiment from earlier. Sensing resistance, he changed tactics. "Look, you said I shouldn't be alone and I may not be a genius, but you _are_ , right? I'd be a complete idiot if I didn't listen to an actual fucking genius, even if he's apparently an idiot sometimes. So I need to split and I need someone to keep me company. You aren't gonna let me be all alone and shit, are you? On the very night that my girlfriend broke up with me because she's marrying another guy? That's just _cold_ , man."

"That's just wrong—I didn't know what your ex did. I wouldn't—that's not what I was— _Wait a minute_. Are you—? You _are._ You're manipulating me, _you absolute platypus_. That's—that's _diabolical_. I'm a poor impressionable child, defenseless and alone in the world. What kind of evil _bastard_ are you that you'd lure a kid to your den of intrigue?"

"Second Lieutenant James Rhodes, at your service," he answered, grinning at the kid's sputtering. His posture automatically straightened as he used his full title but he managed to refrain from saluting. "And I get the feeling that you're about as _defenseless_ as an iron."

"Well, good ol' Dad always did say that Starks were made of iron, so you may be on to something there, Rhodey-bear."

"I'm doomed to a lifetime of nicknames, aren't I?"

"Yep," the kid said, popping the end of the word again. He was grinning like he was going to burst into sparks of light. James just shook his head and ruffled the kid's hair again. The kid responded by tapping the marker against his nose. "You promised me a notebook. No fondling the Tony with no plans to follow through if you're not gonna keep your promises."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," James agreed, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender to the craziness he had just invited into his life. "I'll get you the damn notebook. Be here when I get back, and completely _unfondled_ , if you don't mind. I'm really not in the mood to punch one of these drunken idiots."

"Would you really punch someone to defend, what, _my virtue_? My _honor_?" Tony shook his head. Then he became deeply interested in his knees. His next words were soft and fragile around the edges. "That's ridiculous, and like, totally not worth it. I don't have either."

"Hey, look at me," James commanded. He reached out to cup Tony's cheek, using the pressure to tilt his chin back upwards. Once Tony met his eyes again, he spoke with stubborn conviction. "In your defense, I would punch out Captain America himself. You know why? Because anyone who honestly believes that 'platypus' is an insult is _fucking worth it_ , and guess what? You're the only idiot who thinks it is, which makes you one of a kind."

"Captain America? Really?"

" _In a New York minute_."

-= LP =-  
 _To Be Continued in Chapter 2_  
-= LP =-


	2. Skyward

**Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Specifically, this story contains references to underage drinking and sexual activity between a minor and an adult. There's also references to potential (but unconfirmed) child abuse and references to offscreen bigotry. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** I mostly stay within the MCUverse on things. It's what I'm most familiar with. However, I am ignoring certain divisions caused by the Great Copyright Divide (that is resolved now anyway with Disney's recent purchase). This is fanfiction and that means I get to ignore that particular tangle if I want to, which I do. So there. [sticks tongue out childishly]

 **Song Recommendation(s)** : "Bad Influence" by P!nk; "Behind Blue Eyes" by the Who

-= LP =-  
 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 02: _Skyward_  
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"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."  
– Henry David Thoreau  
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Becoming friends with Tony Stark was definitely the craziest thing that James was going to ever do in his life. That he could confidently say that after only a month of knowing the kid should have been a warning post the size of Boston. Tony's mind certainly had the same amount of wacky twists and turns. Keeping up with the little guy was often an exercise in futility and forget about trying to get ahead of him. The best James could consistently manage was to smooth out any problems that came up along the way, preferably before Tony himself got involved in the soothing.

Most people didn't appreciate Tony's _quirks_ like he did.

And Tony didn't understand most people, not that James could really blame him.

Turned out that his flippant comment about Tony being a genius fell a bit short of accurate when describing the kid's intelligence. Tony was capable of more groundbreaking science in more fields at fourteen than most people even dream about for their entire lifetime. As far as James could tell, the kid went full-tilt all the time on nothing more than coffee, pizza, and alcohol. He was like some fantastical hybrid of a hummingbird and a squirrel, both on meth and ready to take on an entire world of naysayers.

Tony's mind just worked so much faster than everyone else's that by the time they finished introducing themselves, he had already started planning six other projects. He didn't like wasting time on anything he deemed boring, which seemed to include all the social niceties that other people expected. Tony knew them, was perfectly capable of going through the motions of them, could even fake any number of personas if given enough of a reason. It was just that Tony measured validity of the reason differently than even the other brilliant scientific minds around MIT and the affiliated colleges nearby, let alone the more normal students.

Honestly, the string of pissed off people the guy left in his wake was the least stressful thing about Tony.

For all that James found him drunk in a bathroom during a frat party, Tony didn't drink all that much. The kid was only a social lush, and it should say something about the state of his life now that James thought Tony being drunk when around other people was better than him being sober around them. Drunk Tony was slower to become defensive, less likely to be an asshole deliberately in order to push people away. (Probably nothing would stop Tony from being an asshole accidentally; James was convinced that Tony wasn't aware of time like the rest of the world, and that most people weren't really there for him. How Tony hadn't been sent packing for missing class was something of a mystery that _had_ to do with a mixture of the Stark name and lenient professors.) Of course, Drunk Tony was also more prone to jumping over the barriers of safety protocols in ways that could only be labeled suicidal. Damn idiotic frat boys only encouraged it all, too.

The same idiots also tended to take Tony up on his offer of no-strings sex if James wasn't around to glare them into running away like the filthy cowards they clearly were. James knew what it must look like, especially since he always ended up dragging Tony home shortly afterwards, sometimes literally, but keeping Tony _safe_ was more important than stupid rumors. It didn't take long for the two of them to set up a pattern in that regard. James would chase off the idiots, both male and female (even if Tony tended to pursue the later less even if they held his interest more). Tony would whine about James being a wet blanket. Then James would haul the teenager out of whatever party they were at and back to Tony's campus apartment. Inevitably, they always ended up on the red eyesore of a couch, sharing a blanket while they mocked crappy infomercials until Tony fell asleep propped up against James.

Sometimes less propped up than others.

Did he say Tony was a squirrel? He clearly meant _cat_ , because no other creature could sleep in the same kind of contortions that Tony could, like he had twice as much vertebrae as a normal person. The kid fell asleep in odd places like a cat, too. James came into his dorm once and found Tony curled up _on top_ of his desk, snuggling his stapler. Considering the growing scientific evidence for mutants being various degrees of visible, James sometimes wondered if Tony didn't have actual cat features like that to go along with his incredible intellect.

Not that James would voice that thought to Tony, not after seeing how Tony froze when certain anti-mutant slurs were used around him before becoming a tiny ball of verbal fury if it was someone bullying rather than just messing around with friends. It made James wonder sometimes, where that reaction had come from, but since Howard Stark had a major part in creating Captain America and there was nothing the media loved more than tearing down Howard Stark, maybe he already knew. (Maybe James also knew why Tony would react the same for other types of slurs, ones focused on sexuality and mental stability, and maybe it took more effort than it should to ignore how that could probably also be laid at Howard Stark's feet.)

Craziness was just a fact of life when one was friends with Tony Stark and James was already well aware of that fact.

Which means he really shouldn't have been yelling at the kid he had just yanked out of the still-smoking lab.

Yelling didn't help with Tony and James _knew_ that. He also knew that he should have been there a half-hour ago to pry Tony out for dinner. He didn't expect the blonde to stop him on his way into the building. Given how she had left with a wink and a 'tell Tony to call me' after the explosion, James knew it had been a setup—something else to add to the list of Tony behaviors to watch for because now that it had worked once, the damn kid was going to test all the possible variables. Yelling wouldn't change that. Yelling would be probably the worst thing to do, because people yelling at Tony just made the kid do whatever just to fuck with them. The kid always got all prickly and hotheaded and so damn defiant when people yelled at him.

Except that Tony wasn't doing any of that this time.

This time, Tony had his chin practically pressed against his chest, taking each raised syllable like they were blows. He hunched his shoulders, like he needed to make himself even smaller than he already was. His fingers, which didn't even stop moving when Tony was asleep, were clenched around each other so that they alternated between flushed red and bloodless white. James forced himself to cut off his vocal reaction, because this time the yelling wasn't just 'not working'.

"Are you injured?" he finally managed evenly after a few deep breaths. Tony flinched, then shook his head. The answer was too fast to be the truth. Tony was cat-like in that regard, too. Hell, he would probably go hide from the world if he was dying. James took another deep breath before speaking again. "Where? And is it something I can handle with first aid or do I need to drag your ass to a fucking hospital despite finals being next week and both of us needing to study for the damn things?"

"I'm fine," Tony muttered, soft and miserable. James suddenly wanted to drive down to Howard Stark's fancy Fifth Avenue mansion and punch the man on his fancy face. It wouldn't solve anything, but it would make him feel better. James crossed his arms and breathed through the urge. Tony still hadn't looked up by the time it had passed.

"I'm _sure_ , man," James said once he could trust that he was going to yell again. Tony flinched again, like he had shouted the words instead. "Just for the stress, we're ordering Filipino instead of Chinese and you don't get to bitch about it." Tony jerked his head upwards to stare at him with his mouth slightly opened. James continued like Tony had tried to protest despite the kid not managing a single syllable. "Nah-uh. Don't even try it, midget. I know you planted the blonde with the hot bod to distract me while you did whatever it was that blew up—"

"There was a complication with the experiment—"

"It _exploded_ , Tony."

"Nothing was destroyed except the equipment and I can replace—"

"Fuck the equipment. You could have _died_."

"Yeah, I know—and a terrible waste that would be. I am so close to figuring out that filtration problem. It's gonna be so much better than what dialysis machines are currently using. I just hope the stupid explosion didn't destroy the prototype—"

"Fucking hell, Tony," James interrupted again. Unable to stop himself, he reached out with both hands and grabbed the teenager, one hand on each bicep. Tony's brown eyes were wide as they stared up into his. He didn't know what Tony was seeing on his face, but he did know that it had to be frightening. "Fuck prototypes and robots and drunk codes. While we're at it, fuck engines and circuit boards, too. Nothing you can create will ever be worth a tenth as much as you are, you fucking idiot."

It hit him then, just what could have been lost and why he was so angry. Tony made him crazy, and his life was definitely more complicated due to trying to keep people from murdering the guy, both figuratively and literally. Taking care of Tony was just as much an exercise in futility as trying to keep up with him, but for the love of God and Country, James didn't think he could live a life without the madness that was Tony Stark. It would be too gray, too easy, too boring.

James yanked Tony to him, half hugging and half restraining him so that he couldn't escape. Tony stayed stiff for two whole heartbeats before melting into the embrace—just like he always did whenever James manhandled him out of a party, away from whatever floozy or asshole he had propositioned. It always made James think that Tony was starved for affection, that maybe he didn't want sex from those idiots but was using that to get what he really wanted. He squeezed the kid even tighter, making Tony groan as he obviously jostled whatever injury that Tony denied having.

"Still sticking by 'fine'?"

"If I'm dying, what are the odds of ordering Chinese instead of your nasty dinuguan?"

"About three thousand, seven hundred, twenty to one," he said, steering the kid towards the exit. He paused only briefly to verify that nothing was actively burning in the lab and close the door against potential intruders. Tony could work on fixing things tomorrow, but only if his work was still there. It was probably unethical and maybe a bit illegal, but the kid tended to do work for his father's company a lot, which is what garnered him a private lab in the first place. If James had learned anything from hanging out with the grad students, it was that _cutthroat_ didn't even begin to cover the competition amongst the science students. And Tony? He was everyone's greatest competition.

"Never tell me the odds," Tony returned, because he was just as big a nerd as James was.

James rolled his eyes, already planning to get an order of egg foo young when they ended up ordering Chinese because eggs tended to disgust Tony just as much as meat stewed in its own blood. The guy could chow down on tofu and seaweed as easily as doughnuts and pizza, but eggs? Oh, no, that was too much. The idiot was fucking weird.

Later, when they were both almost asleep on Tony's ugly-ass couch, James spared a few moments to think about how maybe Tony wasn't the only one who was weird. He and Tony tended to end up sleeping in the same space a lot for people who weren't fucking each other. He couldn't even put Tony on the same level as his brother and sister, because there was no way that he would be willing to put up with them wiggling around in the night like Tony did.

As if to prove that point, Tony snuffled in his sleep before pressing his face into James' side. Tony's arm slipped around James' chest so that he was being held like a giant teddy bear. In return, James ran his fingers through Tony's soft curls. Each crinkly burnt end served as a reminder that this night could have ended much differently and that it was a bit of miracle that Tony was still there to annoy the shit out of him. His hand clenched, setting off a full body shiver in Tony that ended with the kid going lax against his chest.

"M' Rho'ey," Tony breathed, the words sleep-slurred and mushy. James shushed him gently, not wanting him to wake back up before morning if it could be avoided. James forced his hand to loosen its grip on the kid's hair and return to petting. Tony made a humming noise in the back of his throat, settling further into the snuggle.

 _Definitely a cat_.

-= LP =-  
 _To Be Continued in Chapter 03_  
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	3. Merry-Thoughts

**Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Specifically, this chapter contains references to potential child abuse and a significant character death. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note (Words of Interest):** "Merry-Thought" is another term for a wishbone or furcula. It's the bone that allows for the wings to actually function because it strengthens the underlying structure enough.

 **Author's Note(s):** Before anyone asks, I only drink tea with _Satan_. I reserve the coffee dates for Lucifer.

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "Land of Confusion" by Hidden Citizens; "Fuckin' Perfect" by P!nk

-= LP =-  
 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 03: _Merry-Thoughts_  
-= LP =-  
"The greatest gift of life is friendship, and I have received it." – Hubert H. Humphrey  
-= LP =-

James hated Howard Stark long before he actually met the man. That meeting had always been destined to be awkward. Not only had James grown up as a fan of Captain America and his Howling Commandos, but he had always wanted to be, well, a rocket scientist. Howard Stark was one of the largest names in the field of engineering, and the biggest supporter of the military out of all those names. Looking back on his first meeting with Tony, it actually was kind of surprising that he hadn't recognized the kid.

Of course, it was meeting Tony that had shifted the science crush into hardened rage.

Everything always came back to Tony, and while sometimes it annoyed him, it was a bit like recognizing that the sun rotated around the center of the galaxy and always had. Every moment since James had stumbled upon the kid scribbling procedural coding onto a bathroom mirror had been a step deeper into another life, one even further removed from the tiny house he had grown up with in Philadelphia than a lunar colony could ever hope to be from New York. Tony drew in attention just by existing, like he was a human gravitational well, and like debris to a planetoid, people tended to either crash against him or get hurled away. James would be a satellite in that analogy, which was less annoying than it sounded. Even if the moon couldn't heal the wounds left by meteors, it could still affect the tides, right?

Maybe James should leave the metaphors to the idiot who picked graduate work in Medieval Literature out of boredom—because working on Masters in three sciences couldn't keep Tony busy enough that he rarely slept already. At least all the reading required created the perfect excuse for Tony to spend evenings lounging on the still-ugly couch with his feet in James' lap rather than mastering beer pong or wreaking havoc in the lab with the only being worst at lab safety than Tony.

Though James was slowly teaching Dummy fire safety, in case Tony created another explosion while he wasn't around. Tony was less upset about that than the mailbox stickers that James had snuck onto Dummy's base. Either way, Tony made no attempt to remove the white on black letters spelling out D-U-M-hyphen-E despite grumbling about his bot's name being spelled _wrong_.

It was watching Tony with Dummy that really brought home just how much Howard Stark had to answer for, if only someone would dare to call him on any of it. Maybe it had started as a test of the oncology protocols or maybe it was because Tony knew that Dummy couldn't speak to spill any secrets, but Tony _talked_ to the thing and with only minimal deflecting. James shouldn't listen; it was a violation of the trust that Tony had in him. But it confirmed a lot of what he had previously suspected about the kid he had adopted as his own—even if James had no clue what they were half the time, just that Tony was _his_ in the same way that he was Tony's.

And as much as he loved Tony, James _hated_ Howard Stark.

There was absolutely no way that James was going to let Tony go home for another holiday _alone_ , not even if it meant leaving Dummy alone in Tony's lab on campus. Christmas break had been bad enough. If he had known Tony for longer than a month and a half, James would have dragged the midget's ass back to Philly with him. His Mama would have loved to have another son to coddle and Tony would have eaten it all up. Coming back to a surprisingly drunk (but _alone_ , hence the surprise) Tony talking a glorified arm on wheels through typing out Thomas Hood's "I Remember, I Remember" had been a greater nightmare than any possible explosion. Dummy was just as incredibly unique as his creator, even if the coding seemed buggy at times, but James knew he had only been born because of whatever had made Tony, who hated the _idea_ of drinking by himself, down most of a bottle of gin after returning early from New York.

So, when Tony had thrown out the offer of showing James 'how the better half lived' over Spring Break in that too-casual way of his (the one that meant he didn't want to show how important it was), James had leapt at the excuse. He was expecting to meet the man who had been his hero once upon a time. He was expecting to meet the woman who Tony spoke of only with quiet longing as he talked of charity and his own desire to change the world. He expected to possibly even meet Howard's business partner whose mere mention made the corner of Tony's lips twist in a way that James was still uncertain how to translate.

He was not expecting Tony to lead him down to the kitchen where an old man was pulling a casserole from the oven. The man had a full head of iron-colored hair and only a few wrinkles, just laugh lines, really, though he had a worn look about him, too. He was wearing an apron the same scarlet of Tony's couch back at MIT and had a yellow gingham patterned dish towel draped over his right shoulder. James lingered in the doorway as Tony rushed forward to take the dish from the man. In return, the man used the dish towel to swat at Tony who laughed as he danced over to the trivets waiting on the counter.

"Pot holders exist for a reason, you scamp," the man scolded. The posh accent threw James, with its mix of formal tones and familiar words. It sounded like a softened English accent and James suddenly understood why Tony pronounced certain things the way that he did and the origin of some of his phrasing. Watching the two greet each other, it became clear that whoever this man was, he was important to Tony and, even greater, Tony was important to _him_. Relief flooded James as the man freely pulled the teen into a full-body hug, a little bit of the knot of worry in his gut easing. "I didn't know you were coming home. I would have stocked up on that swill you insist on drinking instead of tea."

"It's called 'coffee', Jarvis," Tony corrected imperiously, "and it's manna from Heaven."

"Oh, if Ana could just hear your heresy," Jarvis said, his tone drily flat like Tony's at his most sarcastic. The words were soft, as if they weren't meant to be carried further than the embracing pair. James felt like he was intruding but at the same time, watching Tony be so free with someone was entrancing. They parted slowly, both lingering over the hug. Jarvis tweaked Tony's nose before stepping away fully. "She would probably scold you even as she started a pot."

"What can I say? I'm adorable."

"You're _incorrigible_ , is what you are, but then so was Ana."

Jarvis shuffled to another area of the kitchen. It took longer than it should have to realize why the motions of setting up the machine looked so familiar. Even the exaggerated flourishes of the man's hands were the same as Tony's method. With the same ease he had shown since entering the room, Tony slipped into the pattern with Jarvis, filling the pot with water as Jarvis ground the beans pulled from an honest-to-God burlap bag. Neither of them spoke but instead hummed the same melody that Tony used when fixing coffee, even if it was the shitty stuff from the dormitory kitchenette. James was still by the entrance when Jarvis turned and noticed him for the first time.

"Anthony," Jarvis said. Those three syllables held such wariness that James found himself grinning. He'd recognize that cautiously curious tone anywhere, even if the follow-up question didn't make sense. "Did you bring home another flamingo? You know how I feel about flamingos."

"That's my Rhodey," Tony declared, sounding incredibly proud of the introduction, "and he is totally _not a flamingo_." Tony would have stopped there except the man stared at him with a bland expression that had him shifting his weight nervously. When it made Tony blurt out what had to be an explanation, James knew that he had to learn the secret. "He's a _platypus_."

"Is that so?" Jarvis was eyeing _him_ now, as if he was taking James' measure just by sight. James added it to the mental list he was compiling of traits that Tony must have picked up from the man and tried not to squirm. The urge to confess _something_ swelled, but all he had to offer was that Dummy's tendency to turn up Tony's CD player when AC/DC was playing had been something James had taught the bot through carefully applied positive reinforcement. "Are you aware that Anthony is a koala?"

"I don't know exactly what we're discussing," James acknowledged, "but I can see Tony as a koala. Cute but dangerous; fussy eater but loves things no one else tends to eat. I've been thinking of him as a cat, honestly, because of how he sleeps, or a hummingbird because of how he _doesn't_."

"Oh, I like this one," Jarvis announced and Tony's scrawny chest puffed up even more at the pleasure in the man's voice. The kid tucked himself against Jarvis' side, certain of his welcome. Jarvis let his arm settle on Tony's shoulders and bussed the dark curls atop the boy's head. "He certainly has your number, doesn't he, poppet?"

"Jar- _vis_ ," Tony whined at the petname, sounding like James' brother whenever their mother tried to kiss his cheek the last few years. Unlike how Joey would have squirmed away, Tony tried to hide his face in Jarvis' apron. The action was uncharacteristically shy compared to Tony's usual brashness, startling James into a fit of laughter. Jarvis followed half-a-beat later. It was a brilliant wonderful moment.

Then Jarvis' laughter turned into a coughing fit that wouldn't quit.

For a long time after that, James lost track of the details of things. It was lost in a haze of action/reaction, a lot like when something went wrong with one of Tony's experiments or when he ended up in the middle of a brawl of some sort (typically due to Tony as well). The trip to the hospital was a blur. The fight to keep Tony from following Jarvis into triage was strangely vivid because the kid was scrappy when he wanted to be and knew how to use his smaller size surprisingly well. The security guards were not particularly helpful, often just distracting him and agitating Tony further.

Once he had his entire body wrapped around Tony, it was like a switch being flipped. Instead of trying to get away, Tony was clinging. He was making the hiccupy noises that James recognized from the times Tony had woke up from a nightmare outside of their cuddle. Unable to think of anything else to do, James just tucked Tony's head beneath his chin and glared at the orderly hovering nearby with a needle that he looked suspiciously like he wanted to stick into Tony. Thankfully, the orderly decided to back off before James had to make a choice between kicking his ass and holding Tony.

It took hours before they were allowed into the private room the hospital had given Jarvis. James was surprised to see that the man was conscious, especially with the prognosis they had been given before being allowed into the room. The lack of IV mocked the sluggish beep of the heart monitor. Both screamed the imminency of what was happening despite how wrong it seemed when just a few hours ago they had been making coffee and discussing what animal Tony was.

Tony hesitated only a moment before stumbling over to the narrow bed and crawling into it the same way he did the rare times he spent the night in James' bed in the dorms. Jarvis curled on his side to face the teenager who was curling into him. Once again, James was struck by the feeling of intruding on something private, meant for just the two of them. He couldn't leave, though, not when Tony was going to need him.

"The doctors are stupid," Tony declared as soon as they were settled. Jarvis closed his eyes as he released a sigh, like he was preparing to repeat a well-worn argument.

"You can't call everyone who tells you news you don't wish to hear 'stupid', scamp."

"They said you'll die within the hour."

"Good," Jarvis said, and James tried not to laugh because there was _no way_ — "I so hate long waits."

Of fucking course, Jarvis was just as big a nerd as Tony. Where else would Tony have gotten it from? On the bed, Tony pressed his forehead against Jarvis' chin.

"You can't die," Tony begged, his voice small and crackling around the edges. "I've almost figured out how to fix the dialysis procedure, to make it _better_. I'll be able to fix you. I just need a little bit longer. Just—you can't die, Jay."

"Oh, _poppet_ , my love for you is very strong, but not that strong." The old man pressed a kiss against Tony's forehead, pausing as if breathing in the scent of the boy's hair. He settled a hand on Tony's nape. The papery frailness stood in contrast to Tony's healthy olive skin and James wondered how he had missed this earlier. Tony's breath hitched before he pressed closer to the dying man. "You brought such light to an old man's twilight years, scamp, and I couldn't be prouder of you if you had been my own. Ana and I were blessed to have had you, so very blessed."

"Everything good in me comes from you guys."

"No, love," Jarvis chided, pulling away enough that he could look into Tony's miserable eyes. "All that good was already inside you, and it just clamors to get out. To borrow a rather poor analogy, you are made of iron, but iron is useless if not refined by fire, by heat. Do you know what else is forged in flames, my Anthony?" He stroked the side of Tony's face, waiting for something James couldn't see from his position. " _Heroes_. You are going to change the world, poppet. Not because of me or Ana or even your father. You're going to do it because it's who you are, who you were born to be. You're a hero."

"I'm not good like Steve Rogers," Tony confessed like it was a grave sin to _not be like Captain America_. Hatred for Howard Stark burned through James despite the sympathetic pain within him at the sight of how much Tony, brilliant and impossible Tony, absolutely believed those words. Intruding or not, James couldn't let that paradigm stand unchallenged.

"You're right, Tones." James didn't flinch at the devastated look Tony shot him at the sharp agreement. He still couldn't bring himself to soften his tone any. This was one thing Tony needed to know that James believed completely. "You're ten times better than Steve Rogers could ever hope to have been."

"He does have your number, poppet," Jarvis commented with a tired smile. He pressed another kiss to Tony's forehead, breathing deeply again as if inhaling one last bit of the teen. "I think he'll do as a replacement."

The beeping from the heart monitor became a single tone. Tony made one of his hiccuping noises before groaning like he was being ripped in half. James was beside the bed before he processed that he was even moving. He just rubbed Tony's back as a nurse came in to turn off the monitor. Even as close as he was, James almost didn't hear Tony's final words to the man who raised him despite him being another man's son and heir.

"No one could replace you, Jarvis."

-= LP =-  
 _To Be Continued in Chapter 04_  
-= LP =-


	4. Gorgets

**Warning(s):** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Specifically, this story contains references to underaged drinking and possible sexual activity between a minor and an adult. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note (Words of Interest):** _Gorget_ (the flashy feathers on the throat of male birds of certain species; also the portion of armor worn to protect the neck); _cryptographer_ (someone who decrypts and encrypts messages)

 **Author's Note(s):** A really good summary of this chapter would be "Founding the Tony Stark Defense Squad. Current membership: a platypus and a bratty bot. Now accepting applications." Seriously, sometimes even if your intentions are good, you can still fuck someone up if you're not thinking about how whatever can be perceived—like expecting a little kid to act like a superhero that you actually knew personally while being emotionally distant but expectant of impressive things. Kids are really weird like that, especially the really precocious ones.

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "Whenever, Wherever" by Shakira; "What Lies Beneath" by Breaking Benjamin; "Halo" by Beyoncé

-= LP =-  
 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 04: _Gorgets_  
-= LP =-  
"Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness." – Euripides  
-= LP =-

James had suspected since shortly after meeting him that Tony dealt with emotions the same way he dealt with people in general: ignore until left alone. Watching how Howard handled the news of his butler's death made it clear exactly where Tony had picked up the method. The man had swept into the waiting room dedicated to the ICU, as commanding as a senior officer but as blatant about it as one of the neighborhood thugs back home. Tony's voice wobbled when he had informed Howard of Jarvis' passing, but he hadn't lifted his head from James' shoulder, so he didn't see how the older man had looked like he had taken a blow to the gut for the briefest of moments.

Unfortunately, Howard had tried to cover up the emotion by telling Tony how he needed to buck up and get over things. Each word made Tony flinch against him and fed the hatred that James felt towards the elder Stark. Just as the battle haze started creeping in on the edge of his vision, a woman stepped into the room. Howard's flood of words died off immediately and James felt himself come to attention. Well, as much as possible with his lap full of bony teenager.

She sent Howard away with a firm command to speak with someone named Rose. The inventor opened his mouth as if to protest but immediately shut it again without saying a word. He ended up leaving the room without a backwards glance. James didn't know which was worse: Howard's previous cold lecture or that silent exit. No matter how James angled it in his head, all he could see was abandonment. Tony needed his family-Jarvis couldn't be the full extent. Maybe the woman was Maria? She did look vaguely familiar.

The woman then ran her hand through Tony's hair and down the back of his neck, seemingly without care that the kid was pressed against James' chest. As always, Tony leaned into every touch offered him for however long it was given. (Watching that _hurt_ after seeing how easily Tony could be tactile, _had been_ just hours previously with someone other than him. How could they not see how starved for affection the kid was?) She didn't say any of the generic phrases that normal people gave in such moments, no trite mentions of better places or Jarvis being at peace, nothing about divine plans. Maria Stark did a lot of disaster relief work, so of course she would be familiar with comforting grieving people.

"I know that it doesn't seem like it now when the hurt is so fresh," she whispered, "but it _does_ get better, dove. Just don't run off and do something stupid before then, please."

"Not a lot of Hydra planes left to crash, Aunt Peggy," Tony murmured tiredly. James could hear how the words slurred together just a little, the way they did when Tony had managed to lock himself into the lab with Dummy so that James couldn't force him to sleep like a normal human. After all that had happened today, James wasn't surprised that the kid was exhausted. He needed to get Tony into a bed before he swung into the manic energy that tended to lead to lab explosions, ridiculous pranks, or _worse_. Maybe he should make sure Tony ate something before—

The sudden rage hit before the realization of what the exchange meant had fully processed.

" _Get out_ ," James growled. Tension coiled within him, loosening his muscles in a way that would make his hand-to-hand instructor proud. Still curled up on James' lap, Tony froze, not even giving a semblance of _breathing_.

The woman— _Peggy fucking Carter_ —was staring down at him, dark eyes still clear even if her hair had been salted in the decades since her last public interview. Even as close to seventy as she had to be, she still maintained the youthful beauty popularized by the old newsreels and the comics, still exuded the authority and competency that had won her a place as a Howling Commando. Everything he had drilled into him in basic and then the Academy screamed a denial at him. None of it was louder than the protectiveness snarling over how _yet another person_ saw fit to compare Tony to a fucking dead man.

James wanted to go back in time and punch Steve Rogers just for existing. At the moment, he wasn't even picky about _when_ in time he did it either. Of course, he'd probably feel worse about punching the guy pre-Rebirth once he calmed down; he did have a soft spot for mouthy midgets.

"I beg your pardon." She had the nerve to actually sound offended. He wasn't the kind of person who would hit a woman, usually. On the other hand, this was a fully trained combatant and his sensei would happily take him to the mat if he forgot that gender didn't matter when it came to _that_.

"You damn well should," James snapped. She straightened her posture, clearly projecting authority in an attempt to intimidate him. He tightened his arms around Tony to remind himself that no matter how he was feeling, actual violence was absolutely not what Tony needed at this exact moment. James felt his face smooth and harden into iron. He filled his voice with it as he aimed his words just as surely. "I expect this kind of shit from the idiots at school. They have no reason to look past Tony's posturing and let's face it, he's more than a bit of a peacock when it comes to putting on a show. But Howard's supposed to be a genius and you—you're _Peggy Carter_ , the only female Howlie, the cryptographer who finished the job of taking out Hydra after Captain America decided to be a fucking idiot. I have no clue how either of you could be so fucking blind that you can't see that Tony is a damn treasure. You're so busy keeping your golden hero on his pedestal that you're ignoring the vibranium that you had right in front of you."

"Steve wasn't an idiot," Peggy protested.

Tony's entire body shivered once before he pressed his cheek against James' collarbone. Like a miniature echo of that shiver, Tony's hand spasmed before fisting in James' sweatshirt. All at once, James wasn't burning with his anger. Instead, it transformed into a frozen tundra within his chest. He was done talking, just _done_. Tony had to come first to _someone_ and right now, the kid needed _sleep_ and _food_ and _to not be here._

"We're leaving," he stated with all the heat of a Siberian winter. Months of doing it made standing with Tony cradled in his arms as easy as anything else. It showed just how out-of-sorts Tony was that he didn't even give his normal token protest about not being a damsel in need of rescue. There wasn't even a quip about how caveman-like James was acting or a joke about bulging muscles being a turn-on. That just underlined the need to get Tony somewhere he could decompress. As much as James hated those defense mechanisms, Tony clearly wasn't dropping them because he was _comfortable_.

"Just who do you think you are?" she demanded, still outraged.

James really shouldn't reply. It would be the mature thing to just continue walking out without saying anything. It certainly wasn't a good idea to sass the person who had a tendency to shoot people when she was annoyed with them, even her _precious_ Captain. It was a terrible idea, one that was absolutely crazy, like drunk-inventing level crazy.

It would likely make Tony laugh.

"Respectfully, ma'am, I'm Rhodey," he stated, letting the words drip with the pride that saturated them, "and _in no way_ at your service."

They were a bit hysterical, but Tony's giggles followed them from the room.

-= LP =-

The first couple months following Jarvis' death had been, well, _dull_. Tony went to lectures and he turned in homework. He went to campus parties but didn't drink anything harder than lemonade or proposition a random stranger who was almost a decade older than him. He didn't start arguments with anyone or tell them how shoddy their work was. He didn't lock himself in the lab for days or dismantle James' hot plate for parts to upgrade his toaster. It would have been a welcomed reprieve from Tony's normal shenanigans if the kid didn't look so _lost_.

When finals began to creep up on them without any sign of Tony pulling out of his grief, James knew that he was going to need to do something huge. Tony had created another bot and somehow had hidden it until James had interrupted Tony reading out Emily Dickinson's "My Life Closed Twice" so that Dumber could practice his fine motor controls by typing it. The kid was officially becoming downright maudlin and it was breaking his heart.

It was time to call out the big guns.

James called his Mama.

Roberta Rhodes descended on the MIT campus with all the overwhelming force of a tsunami. The excuse was to escort James back to Philadelphia for the interim period between the spring and summer semesters. The disaster of spring break was touched upon only long enough for Roberta to declare that Tony was coming home with them. James worried only once during that conversation, when Tony looked like he was going to protest the order. A single look from his Mama quelled Tony just as it always had the three Rhodes children.

He still didn't truly relax until they were settled in his childhood room for the night. Tony was laying on the trundle bed as was standard for when he had friends sleep over, but James had a feeling that the kid would be up in his bed by morning. Tony would never turn down any chance to cuddle and frankly, was probably used to it by now, since they had been sleeping together fairly often for nearly eight months.

"Hey, platypus?" Tony whispered once he had the cover of darkness. "Your mom's kind of a badass, isn't she?"

"And she hasn't even broke out her spoon yet," James offered. "Mama is positively lethal with that thing."

"She's _awesome_ ," Tony agreed vehemently. There was a long silence before Tony murmured the words that James had suspected were in his heart for a while but since Tony typically didn't speak _to him_ about his family, only Dummy, James had never had it confirmed. "I wish I had a mom like yours."

"Me, too, Tones," James returned. His chest hurt as he thought of how his Mama had just rolled with Tony's ashamed confession about his eating habits—the casual restrictions whose sources James didn't understand and that he had forgotten to mention before thinking of bringing Tony home. Instead of dropping the same ultimatum ("eat what's in front you or go without") that filled his own childhood, Mama had listened with a look of growing knowledge. Tony's eyes had the shininess that betrayed his urge to cry when Mama had simply nodded and swept him into a tight hug that had lasted until Joey broke the moment enough for Tony to squirm away.

Given the way that Howard and Peggy had interacted with Tony, it made sense to James that Maria was also distant in some way, which didn't make sense at all. The general blindness people had when it came to Tony was frustrating to say the least. The kid just wanted to be loved, damn it. It wasn't even like it was hard. A person had to be pretty stupid not to see how great Tony was. Sometimes James wondered if _Tony_ even realized that, though, because for all that he could put on a good show of arrogance and narcissism, he had a tendency to deflect genuine compliments.

"Hey, Tones, are you still awake?" James got a sleepy hum from the trundle, which was probably the best he could hope for this late. "I just wanted to say, and I know that it's gonna sound all weird and shit, so don't laugh, because that would be totally not cool, but I think you deserve to hear it, so yeah, just gonna say it. I love you, Tony."

There was a beat of silence where James wondered if Tony had fallen asleep or something worse like plotting his disappearance into the outback to find a platypus who wouldn't word-vomit mushy shit in the middle of the night after practically kidnapping him.

"I know," Tony answered. James groaned but accepted that he should have been expecting that response. He shouldn't have forgotten that Tony Stark was first and foremost a fucking nerd. Then he groaned again, because he knew what was coming next. "Does that mean we're going steady now, stud?"

"Still not going to fuck you, Tones."

" _Rude_."

"Just get up here, you damn koala," James commanded, knowing that Tony wanted the closeness if he was falling back on innuendo. Tony's habit of trying to use sex to gain physical affection worried James even more than the drinking before inventing did, honestly. The kid was going to get hurt someday; James could feel it in his gut. So maybe James held Tony a little tighter when he had immediately abandoned the trundle. Tony didn't seem to mind.

At this point, that was enough.

-= LP =-  
 _To Be Continued in Chapter 05_  
-= LP =-


	5. Whiffle

**Warning(s):** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note (Words of Interest):** _Whiffling_ (a flight behavior where a bird rapidly descends in sort of a zig-zag way; a rapid plummet followed by a quick save); _Rainbow Parade_ (new cadets, fresh off the bus into camp and still in their civilian clothes; aka the newbies)

 **Author's Note(s):** I am not directly in the military. I grew up on the fringe of a deeply military family, but my household didn't serve. Thus, my ability to portray interactions between officers of differing ranks is based off of the oh-so-great examples of various military cinema such as _M.A.S.H._ and _Top Gun_. Apologies in advance for the blatant disrespect. Also, I'm playing with a logical extension of an idea. In the Marvel Universe, tech followed a different pattern and problems arising from ethically-gray experimentation is more commonplace (and have been for _decades_ ). Logically, where there exists a recurring issue, there will eventually be some kind of policy or procedure for dealing with it.

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "I'll Fight" by Daughtry; "I Found" by Amber Run

-= LP =-  
 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 05: _Whiffle_  
-= LP =-  
"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood."  
– Lucius Annaeus Seneca  
-= LP =-

It wasn't always easy to communicate with civilians back in the States. Even if confidentiality allowed for it, the basic infrastructure of communications in third world countries was not always the best. After a year and a half, going so long without hearing about Tony was nerve-wracking for James. It wasn't that he couldn't focus on the task at hand or even really that he preferred one place over the other. He could no more imagine a life without flying than he could one without Tony.

It was just that James _knew_ the kind of idiocy the kid could get up to when left to his own devices, especially if Dummy and U decided to go along with their creator's plan. At least U had the habit of being contrary, seemingly to just be contrary and from his first days of existence ("I wonder where he gets that from." "Shut up, honey bear. No one likes smug assholes." "That explains _so much_."), and had no problem communicating that as proven by how the bot had changed his name from the designation that Tony had built into his code. (Tony still replaced the extra stickers for U to scrape off occasionally because doing so just proved that the little guy was himself as much as Dummy was.) Knowing that Tony was going to be alone at MIT after he left had really sucked the celebratory air out of completing his Masters, because Tony still needed a full year to wrap up his doctorates.

(Even the stupid literature one, and wasn't _that_ as unfair as it was amazing? Only Tony could complete two levels of graduate work on four degrees in less than three years. The kid was even on track to do it with honors. James was so freaking _proud_ that sometimes he couldn't help but grin.)

No matter the fact that James missed the kid or worried what he was doing, he hadn't imagined being in the current situation.

"Sir, I don't understand why I would have mail when post call isn't for another two days."

"Neither do I, Lt. Rhodes," the base commander replied. "But this package was landed by parachute in the middle of my base and it's addressed to you. We've managed to ascertain that it is likely neither explosive nor radioactive, but we haven't ruled out bioterrorism. The container is locked biometrically but while the lock looks similar to our standard tech, it's also…"

"Flashier?" James offered when it looked like the commander was not going to continue. When the commander exchanged grimaces with the other senior officer, dread began to pool in his gut. James had seen more than one group of professors exchange that _exact expression_ too many times to not suspect what had happened. James sighed. "It insulted you, didn't it?"

"That is neither here nor there, lieutenant," the colonel said evenly. James sighed again. If Tony had fucked up his career, he was going to have the brat personally make him scrambled eggs for breakfast for the rest of their lives. The kid would either get over his aversion to them or be justly punished. At this exact moment, James didn't care which. "But it has a different statement for everyone in its vicinity. Some less flattering than others. All specifically aimed at the individual in question. The fact of the matter is that we suspect that you're the only one who can actually open it. Under normal circumstances, I would just order it. This is not normal circumstances."

"Because it's StarkTech," James stated, even though it was obvious.

Unrecognized StarkTech was half of the safety brief any time he moved assignment for the last nine months. _Recognized_ StarkTech was another quarter. It wasn't like James didn't understand _why_. Howard Stark was infamous for pushing the envelope and having it blow up in his face. The standard fare stuff was beautiful (the man really stood by that "bullet in your best guy's gun" spiel) and so was the cutting-edge stuff, but well, explosives had a tendency to _explode_. There was a reason that Howard had been drafted for the Manhattan Project until him and Oppenheimer had gotten into it.

Tony was possibly worse, if only because he was so diverse on his projects. The kid had gotten better on safety restrictions, if only because of the bots potentially being in danger if the lab got destroyed. It was hard for James to be thankful to Howard for anything concerning how Tony was raised, but the asshole's _stellar ability_ to recognize Tony's incredible talents had already made Tony a perfectionist when it came to his finished projects by the time James found him. It meant if Tony let something out of his lab, then it was going to work exactly as he planned it to work.

James rubbed a hand over his face and failed to hold back another sigh. The Stark Protocol was clear: no one could be ordered to engage with unrecognized StarkTech without it being deemed a potential crime against humanity. There were horror stories of StarkTech that made men turn on their own, ripping their best friends into pieces with their bare hands while laughing. Until James had met Tony, he had been sure they were just stories to scare the Rainbow Parade. Tony had always skittered close to becoming a real-life H.G. Wells story. Another sigh escaped him before he could stop it.

"You said it was addressed to me?"

"It appears so, yes."

Something in the colonel's tone yanked James' attention to him. He had only been in this base camp for a week now, having spent the previous nine months being bounced from camp to camp—just wherever had been closest to whatever mission the USAF assigned him. James was damn good at what he did, which meant that he tended to keep missions from going FUBAR while finishing them with extreme expediency; there was a reason he had been worth the investment of graduate work straight out of the Zoo. But in the short time that James had known Colonel Metterson, he had never heard him sound so _unnerved_.

"It asked for you by name and rank. Do you have any idea who might have infiltrated my base using stolen StarkTech, Rhodes?"

"Ah, see, that's the thing, sir," James said. He felt the other command staff staring at him but he stayed focused on Metterson, knowing that the next several minutes might change everything he had expected from his life when he joined the Air Force. "I don't think the tech is _stolen_. A better term would probably be either _misappropriated_ or _repurposed_. That's if it wasn't his design in the first place, sir. He has worked for SI's R&D department for a while."

The phrase _for a while_ didn't begin to cover it. Nearest James could discover is that Tony had been producing design specs for his father's company since he was ten, all without formal recognition of his work, and Jarvis had been registering whatever designs and inventions he could since Tony was twelve.

As if James had needed another reason to hate Howard Stark.

"Rhodes," Metterson warned. James fought the urge to rub the back of his neck like he would if he was trying to hide something from his Mama. It had been _years_ since that kind of tell had fought against the conditioning from basic. His Tony Sense was definitely going off. "I need you to be specific on who you believe has broken the security clearance of my blackout camp, son, and in the process, put every single person here at risk."

"Tony Stark, sir," James answered, barely managing to keep his wince internal. "I'm almost completely certain that the security of the camp is still intact, though."

"And why are you so certain of that, lieutenant?"

"Because I'm here," he said, not really thinking of how arrogant that would look or who was asking. The silence made him reevaluate the wisdom of actually telling these people that. Superior officers or not, they were still strangers and Tony wouldn't appreciate having his inner workings explained. James finally broke, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You said you wanted the box opened?"

"Just a formal acknowledgement, if you would," the colonel stated. James sighed but didn't roll his eyes.

"I, James Rhodes, am willing to access advanced tech of unconfirmed origin which resembles known dangerous technology. I fully acknowledge the potential risks involved with such action, both to my person and to the area around me. I do this of my own accord without being ordered or pressured into doing so." James looked at the base commander and other senior brass. "Do you need that in writing, sir?"

"You seem in a hurry, son."

"Tony—if this is Tony—isn't the best at waiting for things." James had too much experience with that. Tony was usually six steps ahead of everyone by the time he even decided to act, if not more. Unfortunately, the side effect was that when Tony finally acted, he already had ten different potential outcomes and he had to see which one was the correct one. "Acting sooner would be better than later."

For the record, there were times when James absolutely _hated_ being right about something concerning Tony. Most of the time, being right meant being able to minimize the damage the kid ended up doing (mostly to _himself_ , which had kept him up more than once since starting his tour). Other times, being right meant wanting to punch someone, usually the chronically absent Howard Stark. This time, being right meant that the mystery box started talking the moment their group entered the containment room, in a close proximity to his sister's voice when she thought she was being cute. Jenny had a good head on her shoulders, but she had a soft spot for Tony's brand of crazy. Who knew what the hell was going on back stateside if those two were teaming up.

"I demand that bears be allowed to vote! And squirrels should have free nuts! And _smoothies_! Free smoothies for all! This is my manifesto, you pheasants! Hear ye, hear ye!"

"Please be a recording and not a live feed," James announced. The voice from the box laughed, a weird amalgamation of sources and tones. That was far more disturbing than watching Tony coo chemical formulae for an astonishing array of poisons to Dummy while teaching the bot to run the blender. He shook his head to clear it. "Also, 'pheasant' isn't really an insult either. What's next? Ducks?"

"Maybe something that rhymes with them," quipped the mechanized voice. It conveyed only a portion of the effortless suggestiveness that Tony's real voice would have, but something in James snapped to attention. Before he had left Tony alone at MIT, it had been a while since the kid had thought to try and buy his attention with an offer of sex. He had thought that inventions gone wrong was the big threat to the kid's safety. _Not good_. "Say the magic word, sourpatch, and I'll steal you away from all this to be my kept companion—I'm not allowed to say 'pet' because of _someone's_ delicate sensibilities—"

"So Jenny is hanging out with you," James confirmed, only sighing a little, " _great_. That's just great. Is Joey there, too? Because that would just make this conversation officially a nightmare."

"Nope," popped Tony. It had shifted to his true voice and God, if it wasn't nice to hear it again, even if the kid did sound positively exhausted. "Also, _rude_. Rude and cruel, Rhodey. I go through the trouble of sending you a care package to the totally still secret base that I know nothing about and this is the thanks I get? I have half a mind to not tell you about the birth of your newest nephew."

"Oh," James huffed. He didn't know what to feel. Dummy and U had been born of Tony's grief and anger at the loss of his father figure. It twisted James' guts to know that he had caused that kind of pain to the kid when he had spent so long doing his best to protect him. On the other hand, there was a reason Tony had phrased it the way he had. Regardless of biology, the 'bots were undeniably _alive_. Tony was just that incredible. "Tell me that I've got pictures in this care package. What's his name? What did you end up using for his input test?"

"Well, I named him after you, honeybear," Tony replied as the seal on the box released. Right on top was several pictures, all clearly not taken by Tony himself. The new bot had two arms ending in the same sort of hand-like claw that Dummy and U had on their single arm. In the background of a few of the photos was a convention of some sort, tech-based judging by the sheer amount of electronics visible. Tony continued to ramble. "So his designation is 'Butterfingers', obviously, and in honor of you, I made him input the lyrics to 'Material Girl' by Madonna."

"I could totally rock a pink evening gown, man," James said, not holding back his eye roll before doing another circuit through the pictures, "but I want the truth—you wouldn't saddle the poor boy with that kind of legacy, not even for your totally still secret love affair with shitty pop songs. Hey, is this Comdex? You took my namesake to Comdex before telling me he even existed? And you call me 'rude'."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I used Emerson's 'Brahma', but I have to say you would look positively delish in bubblegum pink, platypus—just sayin' that you would look nice. Doesn't my best bud deserve to look nice? Not that I don't like your dress blues—I do love a man in uniform and you're all sizzly even without dressing up. Which I'm not allowed to talk about apparently, because Jen-blossom isn't comfortable with that kind of talk. And hell, yeah, I took the boys to Comdex. They had a blast—literally in the case of Dummy, which I totally know is on you. You're a bad influence, platypus. They are young and defenseless minds and you taught them all kinds of bad habits."

"They're made of iron, just like their daddy. I think they'll survive. Plus they're in good hands." There was a beat of silence where James could imagine the lost expression that would be on Tony's face. The kid never knew what to do with someone who genuinely believed he was a good person. James was uncomfortably aware of the crowd of officers watching him but he couldn't bring himself to withhold the words from Tony, no matter how they may look to an outsider. "I love you, Tones."

"I know," Tony whispered without hesitation. He swallowed hard enough for whatever mic on his end to pick up before continuing. "Enough of the gross mushiness. There's more in your package than family photos. Dig in, sugarcookie."

"Are these—Tony, these are _boxers_. Why the hell—Did Jennette put you up to this? Didn't we talk about how little sisters were evil and should never to be trusted? Especially Jenny?"

Tony had mentioned on more than one occasion that he thought textiles were inherently inferior to the glories of true engineering. So underwear was more than a little surprising as far as his inventions went. It wouldn't be the first time the kid had branched out, however, and considering how cool the shorts were to the touch despite having been locked in a metal box in the middle of the desert, they were definitely a new invention.

"Well, once I was done with the last defense, I had some free time. Being a total buzzkill, Jen threatened to rat me out if I hit up a party or three, so I decided to check on how likely it was that she could actually manage that—just for academic purposes. You know I can't do the math unless I have all the variables! You know this, so you can't yell at me for it. Them's the rules, butternut squash. I don't make them. I just blow past them on my way to greatness. But I realized just how hot it is there and just how much at risk my future nieces and nephews were of not existing or worse, being _boring_ like Joey. I couldn't stand it; that would make Mama do that thing where she pretends everything is fine but she's crying on the inside. You don't want to make Mama cry, do you? And you call _Jen-blossom_ evil!"

"Back up, man. What's this about a last defense?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony replied, faux-casual. "I managed to finish all the dissertations early and the committee was willing to let me defend them now instead of making me wait for the end of next term. I get the impression that they didn't want to let me stay on campus any longer than necessary. Hofferton specifically used the words 'infectious malfeasance' which is, like, uncalled for. I maintain my innocence in that riot over the mess hall's inadequate supply of vegan options, and even if I was at fault, I would like to point out that I am the one who managed to subdue the tofu bunny in the end, so really I'm the hero here."

"Fairly certain you're also the inspiration for the bunny at the very least but not gonna argue with you—not when I'm this fucking proud of you." James glanced at the senior brass when he realized how he had phrased that. Most of them had trickled out of the room, leaving only Colonel Metterson watching his conversation with Tony. "Seriously, you're awesome, kid. Still on track for honors?"

"Yeah, um, about that…" Tony sounded embarrassed. James' hands bunched in the boxers he still held. It didn't matter if Tony's grades had slipped, not to him, and Tony knew that, which meant that Tony must have talked to Howard or Peggy or _both_ , and had gotten yet another comparison to Steve fucking Rogers. One of these days, James was going to run out of self-control with some fool who decided to mess with Tones. He hoped said fool was Howard Stark more than a little bit. "See, I didn't exactly get the number one slot for the December class. I still managed _summa cum laude_ , but not quite what I should have gotten."

There really was only one response to that.

"Anthony Elizabeth Jarvis, I am absolutely ashamed of you. How dare you graduate with four doctorates in under three years with high honors? Is simply _impressive_ not enough for you, koala-cat? Had to go and do the impossible when you know us lowly mortals could not possibly keep up with your genius? And all of this while bears still cannot vote and there are no free smoothies? Tsk, tsk."

Tony's laugh started with a surprised choke but continued afterwards unrestrained.

It was everything James needed to hear.

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 _Continued in Chapter 06_  
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	6. Remex

**Warning(s):** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. This chapter deals with a relationship which is abusive on several levels from the viewpoint of someone outside the relationship. The abuser also tries to hide said abuse under the guise of kink. Possibly less problematic for most people is the suggestion of abuse towards the bots, despite the expressed viewpoint of both Tony & Rhodey that the bots are children. Please exercise understanding of personal sensitivities before and while reading.

 **Author's Note (Words of Interest):** A _remex_ is a wing feather, derived from the Latin word for _oarsman_ , the plural is _remiges_ ; _conduct policy_ (a reference to military standards for conduct; particularly focused on the predecessor for 'Don't Ask; Don't Tell')

 **Author's Note(s):** Well, I guess this is officially the end. But I can hear the question now: why does the story end _here_ , while Tony is only 19, when Rhodey & Tony are friends for _decades_ beyond that? I'm glad you asked, my good reader. The way the story needs to be told changes after this point. Also, this definitely the end of this particular chapter of Tony's life. In short, there is more to be told, but not here.

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "Human" by Rag 'n' Bone Man; "Black Velvet" by Alannah Myles

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 **Iron Jizz**  
Chapter 06: _Remex_  
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"No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth." – Robert Southey  
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The first time James Rhodes met Tiberius Stone, the man was perfectly charming. He displayed an ability to follow Tony's brand of conversation with only minimal explanations concerning the more scientific topics and only rarely redirecting the topic elsewhere. He possessed an idealized mixture of height and broad shoulders that had both Jenny and Tony giggling as they exchanged whispers. His blond hair was kept short but not so short to be worrisome to someone with James' _complexion_. His blue eyes practically glowed whenever he managed to make Tony so much as smile.

James didn't like him.

He was aware that it wasn't particularly fair or justified. Tiberius Stone could no more help his resemblance to Steve Rogers than James could help being black. They were just born that way. It didn't reflect their worth as people any more than their favorite color would have. It was not logical to dislike someone he had just met for such a superficial reason. James should be ecstatic that Tony finally seemed to be making friends, _legitimate friends_ and not hangers-on or fuckbuddies, outside of himself and his family.

It would be the fulfillment of his secret hope.

James still didn't like him.

But Tony obviously did.

It wasn't that James couldn't see the attraction. He might not be into guys like Tony sometimes was, but Tiberius Stone was a fine specimen of the sex. Tony had always had an appreciation for beauty, especially if he was allowed to touch it. The genius was as tactile as ever, and Tiberius showed no aversion to being touched. Tony wasn't the scrawny runt James found drunk in a bathroom and at nineteen, he also wasn't a kid needing to be protected from adults who took advantage of his need to be loved in any way he could, no matter the personal cost.

It wouldn't be right to chase off someone who was genuinely interested in Tony when Tony was equally interested. It especially wasn't right when James had no real reason to even try. To even try would inadvertently tell Tony that James didn't trust him, and maybe even that he wasn't worth anyone's honest attention. There was no way for that message not to hurt Tony.

Even after five years, that remained James' number one priority: not hurting Tony.

So James tried to smile at _Ty_ like he didn't hate the guy. He shook his hand and didn't engage in a subtle test of dominance. He watched as the pair slipped into locked rooms together for privacy and swallowed down the desire to punch _Ty_ in his perfect nose. He told himself that it didn't matter when Tony didn't spend all of James' leaves doing stupid shit like spending hours cuddling on a couch trash-talking infomercials for shitty products. And it didn't, because Tony was deliriously happy and that was all that really mattered.

"Jealousy isn't a good look for you, brother," Jenny told him one day as they lingered over coffee. James had been steadfastly ignoring how the café didn't make it the same way that Tony used to, when it was sung into existence even if Dummy was making it. Her eyes were just as sharp as their Mama's when they tried to lie. Slumping in on himself was reflexive at this point.

"I'm not jealous," he argued, forcing himself to straighten in his seat. He hadn't done anything wrong. Even if he had, Jenny was not Mama and wasn't allowed to scold him. She leaned forward, in the pose James recognized from helping her practice as meant to project empathy.

"Look," she said, her tone comfortingly soft, "I don't even pretend to understand what kind of relationship you have with the kid, but whatever's got ya in a funk has got to be dealt with, Jamie. As a therapist, I'm obligated to tell you that talking will help." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms with her to-go cup in the hand of the top arm. "As your sister, I know that you are an idiot who solves problems by getting drunk and trying to pick up women." Jenny pointed at him with the rim of her to-go cup before shaking her head. "Don't deny it, 'cuz it's how you met Tony in the first place."

"Why would I be jealous? By all accounts, Ty's a great guy and he makes Tony do that happy hummingbird thing where he bounces off the walls with giddiness. So why would I not be happy for him? Damn kid deserves to be happy."

"Oh, I don't disagree," she replied. Her smile gained an edge to it as her eyes hardened. "I may not be a genius whiz-kid like Tony and you, but I am damn good at my job. I don't need to know the details to see that _someone_ hurt the kid long before you got ahold of him. I know this sounds terrible, but I am thankful that Erika broke your heart the way she did." She frowned in thought for a moment before correcting herself. "Well, most of the time. Tony talks about your sex life way more than I need to know—did you really pick up hookers on you guys' first spring break together?"

"No," James grunted, "and I've told him to stop telling people that we did, especially since yelling at Peggy Carter is more badass."

"You expect _me_ to believe that _you_ yelled at Captain America's 'best gal'. I don't doubt the possibility of meeting her—which says a lot about our lives nowadays, that two kids from South Philly can reasonably meet famous war heroes like Peggy Carter and rub elbows with socialites like Tony Stark and Tiberius Stone—but I saw your room before you left for basic, idiot. You practically worshiped the guy and had a scary amount of junk from the comics. No way you'd yell at Agent Carter if you met her."

"She was being mean to Tony," he grumbled. Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed. Her free hand came up to cover her face as her shoulders began to shake. James stared at her as she continued to laugh. How could he have ever forgotten that little sisters were evil? He made to stand up. "I don't have to put up—"

"Oh, sit down, you big baby," she sputtered out, gesturing for him to do just that. "I'm sorry. It's just that I can totally see that happening. It's utterly ridiculous and possibly suicidal, if she really is capable of taking out someone with a stapler like in the comics, but you've done stupider shit for the brat for similar reasons. Hell, you're damn lucky there's a Bucky Exception to the conduct policy or you would have been bounced back home with a questionable discharge, hot shot or not."

"I would've found another way to fly." James shrugged. He knew what Tony wanted whenever he made the comments he did, and yeah, James knew how it looked to an outsider even if they never did anything. He may love to fly, honestly believing even sex didn't compare. Serving his country, fighting the good fight, was always secondary to that sensation. Putting on that uniform meant that he had every member of the military backing him up just the same as he had their back; giving even an ounce of that feeling to Tony would always come before the delicate sensibilities of homophobic policy makers. "Tony's irreplaceable, and needs me more."

"Now your baby bird is all grown up and flashing his feathers at another fella," Jenny commented as she leaned forward again. "I get it, brother mine. I really do. But you can't keep glaring at Ty like he stole the last cookie in the jar. Tony will catch on eventually." She leveled a look at him again, like he was being stupid on purpose. As if to soften the blow, Jenny reached over to lay a hand on his arm. "But, Jamie, you can't let this interfere with your lives any more than it already will." She rubbed his arm with a wry smile upon her lips. "Not a lot of people would be willing to put up with whatever we're calling you guys' weird-ass relationship this month. I love Tony as much as I love you and Joey, but I'm not blind to the fact that he's also aggravating as all hell, especially when he's lost in one of his binge-sessions. For some reason that I can't comprehend, Ty doesn't see either of those things as problems, and like you said, he makes Tony do his hummingbird routine. So what's your problem with the guy?"

"I don't—" James cut himself off when Jenny's nails dug into his arm. "No, _listen_ , you harpy. I don't have a problem with Ty. Which is actually the problem, because I'm left with just a general feeling of _not liking him_ but no reason not to."

"You know what that sounds like, right?"

"I'm _not_ jealous, Jenny."

"What- _ever_ , brother," she announced, letting go with a roll of her eyes. It was such a Tony expression that James was tempted to forbid them from hanging out together while he was away. Neither would listen, and it was probably better that Tony had a Rhodes nearby than not, but the temptation was there. It just didn't help his side of the argument that he wished that Rhodes was _him_. Jenny gave him another Look. "Don't fuck this up for Tony. This is _your problem_ , not his. Deal with it before he tries to 'cuz we both know he'll do something stupid. Between you and anyone in the world, the choice was made a long time ago."

Jenny wasn't wrong. James knew that Tony had few limits when it came to him. Most of the time, that was something James could relish. It made helping Tony possible because if there was one thing that the media was right about, it was that Tony Stark didn't do anything that he didn't want to do. Tony was more likely to _want to_ do stuff when the suggestion came from James, and while he didn't abuse the privilege, James was also the only person who could get away with manhandling the genius into doing stuff.

And there wasn't a whole lot that James wouldn't do for Tony in return. So he buried his dislike so far down that even Tony's super-awareness of what people thought couldn't detect it. He told Tony how happy that he was that he had Ty and ignored how the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He refused to show how much he didn't like not having to worry about his comms being hacked while he was in the middle of a mission because Tony wanted something or how he missed the chaos that the sudden appearance of new tech in the middle of camp created. James wasn't friends with Tony because of any of that, or even in spite of it. He and Tony just _were_ and that was what mattered more than any label.

His resolve to not interfere with Tony's relationship with Tiberius Stone lasted up until he returned stateside for another visit. Tony didn't meet his flight, which wasn't out of the ordinary as the genius had a distinctive _unawareness_ of times and dates most of the time. (As much as James hated Howard Stark, he was thankful that the man was already filthy rich by the time Tony was born, because there really was no way the kid could have survived in the normal world. All that made him Tony would have been nothing but a hindrance.) Jenny met him instead, with coffee and doughnuts in hand and an absolute refusal to carry his duffle. She hadn't even asked where they were going before heading towards Tony's townhouse in Murray Hill. Where else would he be staying after a three-month dark op?

Knowing better than to bother knocking, James let himself in with his key. Tony was most likely down in the workshop he had set up in the basement if he was in at all. He could just as easily be at SI's headquarters up in Lenox Hill or out with Ty. James tossed his bag into his room before quickly changing into civilian clothes and going downstairs to check on the workshop. He would be able to visit the bots even if Tony wasn't about. Maybe Dummy would be up for some chess.

James froze just inside the workshop, torn between two instinctive urges at the sight that greeted him. Over the years, he had walked in on Tony in various degrees of decency too many times to count. At least a dozen of those times he had been with another person, and it had been a mix of genders, too. This wasn't even the first time he had seen Tony in a position that looked possibly dangerous or dubiously sane.

It _was_ the first time that Tony had refused to meet his eyes after recognizing who had walked in on him.

For _that_ alone, James wanted to break every finger on the hand Tiberius Stone had on Tony's throat.

"Ah, _James_ ," Ty greeted, false cheer barely covering a steely annoyance. James felt his exhaustion clear itself from his mind. Battlefield sharpness noted the positions of the bots in a nervous cluster in the far corner, Dummy holding the custom fire extinguisher Tony had made him for his last 'birthday' while Butterfingers tapped the digits of one claw against the dented strut of U's arm. Tony was leaning backwards over a work table near them, almost hiding them from the door, with Ty looming over him. Ty was smiling at James while Tony had his face turned away and his eyes closed as if in resignation. "Tony neglected to mention that you were coming for a visit."

"Obviously," he said, careful to moderate his rage into something that could pass as annoyance. Ty's fingers flexed over the bruises already present in multiple stages. Tony visibly shrank without moving a muscle. _Yeah, no, that shit ain't happening._ James took a step further into the room only to freeze again when a servo from one of the bots whined. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Nausea threatened to overcome him as he realized that Tony wasn't the only one potentially hurt in the room. Violence had to be a last resort with children present. _It had to be_. "It seems that Tony neglected to mention a few things about you, too, _Tiberius_."

"What? This? Just a bit of harmless kink," the bastard said, his hand still on Tony's neck.

James allowed his glare to show on his face. God, how he wished he could set the man on fire with his gaze alone because now James _knew exactly_ how this must have started, and why Tony wouldn't have mentioned it. Howard Stark had taught Tony the lesson of iron never bending long before Tony would have connected it to sex, had beaten that lesson into him if James' conclusion was accurate. Howard Stark was beyond James' reach for revenge now, safely dead, but Tiberius Stone was well within his grasp. The asshole had even given James everything he needed to act.

"I'd like to hear that from Tony if you don't mind," James replied easily. He was perfectly aware that the smile he directed at Tiberius had too much teeth to be called _kind_.

"Maybe Tony doesn't want to talk right now."

"Oh, wow," James said, filling his tone with surprise, "you must really think I'm stupid." He shifted slightly, his hands up by his shoulders. When none of the bots objected, he moved even closer to the humans. (And Ty would _pay_ for making those boys scared of even _him_. James would make certain of it.) "Hey, Tony, I need you to look at me, man." It took longer than it should, but eventually Tony had his eyes on James. "How you doin', Tones?"

"Same as always, platypus," Tony returned. His voice was tired, almost too soft to hear. At the sound of it, Dummy lifted his extinguisher and rolled forward only to immediately back into his previous position. James didn't fight a grimace. Things really did have to be bad if Tony was willing to admit it, even a bit. Once a cat, always a cat, after all.

"That bad, huh?" James finished the exchange, because the kid didn't need the unfinished ritual to distract him from what needed to happen. _Immediately_ , if the impatience growing on Ty's face was anything to go by. James let the excess tension leak from his shoulders and back, watching as Tony let his own tenseness match. It had taken a year for them to work this system out while trying to teach Tony how to hold his own against attackers, mostly because it took a while for Tony to admit that pocket-sized just wasn't convenient for escaping grapples. "You wanna give me a color, scamp?"

"Oh, um, sure," Tony stuttered, risking a glance at the defensive huddle the bots were holding before looking at Ty's face and back at James to give him the signal. Ty seemed to finally be picking up that they were planning something. "Red."

Ty fell like a ton of steel when James' fist connected with his jaw. It was very satisfying to watch as James pulled Tony away from the threat. He hadn't wanted to be justified, but it was rather nice to know that his gut wasn't _wrong_ when it came to Ty. When Dummy decided to spray the downed man with foam, James actually let out a laugh. The bot made a complex series of noises with his servos before going back to U and Butterfingers.

"Jenny's been teaching him that," Tony whispered, still pressed against James' side. Tony would be back to his normal bluster in a few minutes, so James just relished the way his arms wrapped around the shorter man, soaking up the feel of Tony safe in his arms. "You Rhodeses are _terrible influences_ on my poor babies."

"Well, they were born in a bathroom, so I don't think we're the only problem here." James pressed a kiss into Tony's wild curls, noting that it was a bit less of a bend than it was before his latest op. "Though I have it on good authority that I'm _diabolical_."

"Who said that? It sounds familiar."

"Oh," James dismissed, "just some genius I met back in college. Get this: the guy thinks that _platypus_ is an insult."

Tony let out a startled laugh as he made the connection.

It was still worth it.

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An Ending  
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End file.
